Life
by Sophie The Shipper
Summary: Amy thinks back on her life with her husband on an emotional time of her life. [One-Shot]


**Summary:** _Amy thinks back on her life in an emotional moment of her life.  
_ **Word Count** : _1557  
_ **Disclaimer:** _I don't own Brooklyn Nine-Nine or the characters._

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I first met Jake Peralta in front of the elevator back at the 99th precinct. It was the year Obama was elected, Michael Jackson died and the year that Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince movie debuted.

We didn't get along in the first few years, he thought I was too boring and uptight. I thought he was too childish. But then we went on a date after I lost that stupid bet, and my opinion on him was the same: childish. But I don't know. Something clicked in me. There was something more about that detective than he let on. Other than the fact that is dad left, something that _everyone_ knows about.

Eventually, we both started to develop feelings for each other. He, unlike me, told me about it. However, I was dating someone at the time, and he was nice about it. He just left and spent a little over a year getting slightly mocked about it. I knew it started to affect him.

Then, one day, we kissed. I know this will sound cheesy and was overused by the movies, but our first kiss was magical. It was soft and deep, you know? It held a lot of love, need, affection. It was overdue, already.

Things happened, over time. We kissed, more than once already but that one kiss. Mmhhh... that one is special.

Then one day, after another bet – our entire relationship is full of bets! – we move in. That's when the trouble began. And no, it wasn't because we were always at each other's throats. No. It was simply because he was a little – just a little – messy. I'm a little OCD, you know? Couldn't deal with the clutter he did, the mess the kitchen was every morning when hurricane Peralta passed there, his closet. God, his closet. It consisted of a pile of clothes and a suit that _I_ carefully hanged. It was always like this.

But I loved that about him. A little messy. Needed a little fixing. I guess I needed fixing too. He got me more relaxed, I made him more together.

He no longer sat and coins got off his pants pocket. I no longer carried a dictionary in my pocket. He would always find a meaning, no matter how stupid and wrong it was, for the word I was thinking about. It would always make me smile, made me forget about the word that was causing me to freak out.

Over the years, the pizza boxes started to disappear, one by one. But there was always one on top of the coffee table, no matter how much time I spent trying to make him take it away. And I kept freaking out about the dust that collected on the furniture and I kept freaking out about words. You know, he bought me a tiny dictionary for my birthday once. I still carry it around. Funny, he sometimes used it. For whatever word. Sometimes it was just to joke, others he actually was looking for a word.

His badge had a smudge of chocolate in it. I made fun of it for years. I discovered it was on his first day as a detective, and he never got it out. I tried, once. It just never seemed to get off. So, it became our thing. Whoever got the smudge out, would buy the other dinner. That began in the early moments of our relationship. Even after we got married, the smudge was still there, bet still on. We got joining bank accounts – which was risky for me because I had a perfect score and didn't have any debts but he did – the bet continued. It wouldn't matter who won anymore. The money was _ours_. But, it didn't matter.

The bet continued after our son, Jamy, was born. Eventually, even he tried. Sure that is the first attempt was pour chocolate on top, which only made the smudge bigger. When our little girl, daddy's little princess, Aly, was born we thought she would care. She did. She licked it. Didn't work.

Even our third angel, the worst of all of them, our little terror, he tried. It made a dent on the badge, and that was how he broke his first tooth. Andy is the one that looks more like him. Personality wise _and_ physically. They look like a carbon copy of each other. It's like Jake had a child by himself.

By the way, the smudge is still there.

We had rough times. When... Holt left the precinct. Later, left all of us. Then his parents did the same. So did mine. By then, our kids were out of the house. We fought a lot during those times. Mostly because I wanted to travel but he wanted to stay and work. He loved to work, just hated the paperwork involved in it.

Eventually, we both retired. Got grandkids. Took care of them when we weren't traveling. When Andy told us he wanted to be a cop, I gave Jake twenty bucks – we made that bet the first time Holt pointed out how similar to Andy was to his dad, he was like five by then.

We supported him. Joked that he was going to find his Amy there. It actually happened. It made us both smile.

When we were at their wedding, I could only smile through the tears. They looked like us on _our_ wedding day.

I remember that day like it was yesterday. Everything that could go wrong, did. Jake, always the optimistic said that everything was going to be fine. He then threw his charm at me, telling me he would marry me anywhere.

And then Charles heard that. We were married half an hour later. I could never thank the 99 more. Especially Charles. He was always the number one supporter of mine and Jake's relationship.

I remember the way Jake's hand felt against mine when we said our last goodbyes to him. He wasn't taking it very well. Charles had always been there for him, through every high-five people ignored and every time Jake needed someone there.

I remember the way he squeezed my hand so tight the blood couldn't circulate. I remember not caring for the fact I couldn't feel my hand.

I remember all of it. It was devastating.

Heartbroken.

Agonizing.

When the day came to say goodbye to his childhood friend, all hell went loose. He cried on my shoulder for hours after we heard about it. He complained over the fact that she was supposed to live forever, how he was going to haunt her. It broke his heart to go to her funeral. Broke mine too. It wasn't meant to be that way. Hit by a bus and survive only to be taken away from this planet by a disease.

And the way he fought back his tears when one of his dads died. He didn't hold them for very long, only a few minutes. He cried, so did I, and we hugged, not being able to look at the other cry.

He didn't cry at her funeral. When the woman he met at the academy died, motorcycle accident. She wouldn't want him, or anyone, to cry, but at the end, as we all – the ones that were still walking on the planet – went to Shaw's he couldn't help but wipe a few tears off his cheek. Of course that after those few, other came after.

When the oldest detectives passed away, everyone was still there. They died together, curled up on the break room's couch. Jake was the one that found them. We all had a drink after it, on the roof. None spoke, Jake too shaken up. It's one thing to see a dead body of someone you don't know, other to find two of your friends dead. We all ended up smiling through the tears as we burned the couch.

When I first found out about his illness, he joked that it would be nothing. I didn't believe him, of course. I cried, a lot, on his shoulder. I remember it. Just like I remember the reassuring smile he threw my way when he pulled me away from his chest.

I remember the tears I didn't shed when his body was put on the ground. But they were there, inside. I wanted to look strong. But his hand wasn't holding mine. And his arm wasn't around me. His cologne wasn't soothing me. So the tears are falling now, as I remember him.

I used to be someone that would talk forever about everyone and everything. But I can no longer find the words to say how much I love him. Yes, love him. Not loved. Because a person can go, you can still love him. Because I will love him until _I_ die. Because that messy, childish detective became my childish boyfriend. He ended up being my immature fiance. Later, my naive husband. The father of my amazing children. He was everything to me.

Because I was with the right person. And no matter how many times I doubted him, no matter times we fought, I loved him through all of it. All of it.

I truly did.

And I always will.

I love you, Jacob Peralta. I don't enjoy goodbyes so, see you later?

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 **The End**

Even _I_ am emotional after writing this. Okay! So, this _is_ Amy's "toast" at Jake's funeral. Going to cry on the bathroom real quick. Peace out homies!


End file.
